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• B6 B7 
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No. 432 


BROTHERS 


A SKETCH IN ONE ACT 


BY 

RICHARD BURTON 

All Rights Reserved 
Copyright, 1922, by Samuel French 


Price 30 Cents 


New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 
Publisher 

1 28-30 West 38th Street 


London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
26 Southampton Street 
STRAND 


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All Rights Reserved 

“BROTHERS” is fully protected by copyright, and all 
rights are reserved. 

Permission to act, to read publicly, or to make use of this 
play must be obtained from Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th 
Street, New York. 

It may be presented by amateurs upon payment of a royalty 
of five dollars for each performance, payable to Samuel 
French one week before the date when the play is given. 

Professional rates quoted on application. 

Whenever this play is produced the following notice must 
appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the play: 
“Produced by special arrangement with Samuel French of 
New York.” 


©CI.D <>2t>33 

NOV ~i 22 


• #v\ & 


CHARACTERS 


Ruth Linden. 

Tom Anderson . A hobo with a fiddle 

Harley Anderson. .His brother, engaged to Ruth 

Scene: Outside a country farmhouse in New Eng¬ 
land. 

Time: A Saturday evening in June, about 6.30. 


3 





BROTHERS 


Scene: Outside a pleasant country farmhouse in 
New England. To the left, a si&e view of the 
house, with broad piazza containing chairs and 
a hammock or two; signs of boarders. A white- 
fence running to right at back, with gate in 
middle; rosebush in yard left of gate. Beyond 
fence, path runs from a gate to highway, which 
stretches off right. Yard somewhat littered up, 
needs mowing. Old-fashioned well working a 
wooden bucket in yard left of gate. On rise of 
curtain, the stage is empty; in a moment, enter 
from house onto piazza, Ruth, a pretty girl of 
twenty-five, wearing a light summer gozvn. As 
she comes through door, she calls back to some¬ 
body inside, in response to a female voice: 
“Where are you going, Ruth?” 

Ruth. Just to the gate, to wait for Harley. The 
train is late, as usual; but he ought to be here soon 
now. (Comes dozen steps and goes back to gate, 
and stands looking off. Distant sound of railroad 
zvhistle. Then goes to zvell and draws herself a 
cup of zeater. Goes to rose bush, picks a flower, 
and facing audience, pulls off the petals one by one. 
Speaks softly to herself) He loves me, he loves me 

5 


6 


BROTHERS 


not. (While this is going on, Tom has slowly en¬ 
tered by the road r. He carries a fiddle, and though 
rough in dress, has a look of being made for better 
things. He watches her for a little; then approaches 
house and sings) 

Tom. (Singing) 

Brothers two, but they never meet; 

One must slink in the open street. 

The other walk where the folks are fine; 

Yet brothers they are, like yours and mine. 

Why do they live so long apart. 

They who have felt one mother heart? 

Oh, one was bad and the other good. 

And it broke the bonds of brotherhood. 

(Ruth, at first startled and a bit frightened, listens, 
and is gradually won by the song and Tom’s ren¬ 
dering of it. She comes down to him near 
centre.) 

Ruth. That was a beautiful song. 

Tom. Glad you liked it. Miss. 

Ruth. What is it called? I don’t remember ever 
hearing it. 

Tom. “Brothers” is the name of it. One of ’em 
up, t’other down. You heard how the words went: 
Oh, one was bad and the other good. 

And it broke the bond of brotherhood. 

Ruth. You play and sing because you love it, 
don’t you? You do it wonderfully well. 

Tom. Oh, I’ve been well trained—once! I like 
it, too—but I do it for something besides liking, 
when I do it at all. 

Ruth. What’s that? 

Tom. Food. 


BROTHERS 


7 

Ruth. (Embarrassed) Oh, yes, of course. 

Please excuse me. 

Tom. Yes, I want food, at least I thought I did. 
I don’t seem to—now. 

Ruth. Let me go into the house—get my purse. 

Tom. (Steps nearer f hand out) Wait a bit, 
please. 

Ruth. (Uncertainly) If you go round to the 
back door, I think-” 

Tom. Never mind that, I can get the food one 
way or the other. I always can go back to tramp¬ 
ing. 

Ruth. (Stepping back) You are a tramp? 

Tom. Most of the time; fiddle it or foot it, just 
as it comes. And you have to be hungry, you know, 
if you’re a hobo; it’s in the part. (Ruth moves 
as if to go.) Don’t go, Miss. I won’t bite—any¬ 
thing but food. 

Ruth. You don’t seem like that kind, like the 
usual kind. Your music, your address, the way you 
look—you’re surely not a- 

Tom. Say it—a tramp, a hobo, a homeless dog. 
that’s it, isn’t it? 

Ruth. I didn’t mean to be impolite. 

Tom. That’s all right. After all, tramps are 
humans, and some of them have slept in something 
else besides barns and empties. 

Ruth. Empties? 

Tom. Empty freight cars—we use ’em a good 
deal. 

Ruth. Do you really ? 

Tom. Um-um. Freight’s cheaper. 

Ruth. Oh, I see. 

Tom. So do the railroad people, sometimes— 
that’s when we get off—or go under the wheels. 

Ruth. (Involuntarily) You poor fellow! 




8 


BROTHERS 


Tom. Oh, we like it, you know. Miss. We don’t 
have to do it—we could work—or die. 

Ruth. Why don't you work? (She moves a 
little nearer.) 

Tom. (Looks round place—speaks as if to change 
subject) You have a pretty place here, but it needs 
more care, a man-of-all-work. 

Ruth. Yes, it isn’t like a private residence. I 
don’t live here. T board. Some days it really looks 
as if I shouldn’t live, the food doesn’t go round. 

Tom. Poor place for my line of business. 

Ruth. (Unconsciously more friendly and confi¬ 
dential) Really, it’s awful, sometimes. Hash all 
the while; and such hash. One of the boarders ob¬ 
jected to a blessing on it the other night; he said it 
had been blessed before. Never mind —(Pointing 
to the well) —the water’s good, and plenty of it. 

Tom. Yes, water’s all right, when you’ve got a 
real thirst on you. 

Ruth. Yes. I don’t mind so much about the 
food myself; only for my—friend who’s coming to¬ 
night. He’s overworked in the city and hasn’t been 
quite himself lately. He’s worried, I think; some 
family matter, I don’t quite know what. 

Tom. (Grimly) Families make lots of trouble, 
one way or the other. 

Ruth. They certainly do. It’s something about 
a scapegoat brother in Harley’s case. 

Tom. (Starts) Harley! T beg pardon. 

Rutti. (Not noticing) Yes, his name’s Harley. 
Why? 

Tom. (Quickly) Oh, nothing. The name’s out 
of the common, and I used to know a r*.an- 

Ruth. (Bends head over rose in her hand, steps 
c.) I see. Well, this one’s name is Harley too. 

Tom. Yes, I sort of thought there was a fellow 



BROTHERS 


9 

somewhere, the way you acted with those rose 
leaves. 

Ruth. (Blushing) Oh, dear, did you see me do 
that? 

Tom. (Gently) Don’t mind me. I liked it; and 
so did the flowers. 

Ruth. (Laughs) He’s—very nice. (Stops in 
confusion.) 

Tom. (Quickly) He ought to be. 

Ruth. Why? 

Tom. Judging from the company he keeps. 

Ruth. (Laughing) Oh, he’s a lot better than 
his company. 

Tom. (Slowly, sadly) Perhaps he’ll be so glad 
to see you, it will take away his hunger. 

Ruth. (Laughs hut blushes) I’m sure Harley 
will bring his appetite with him—he’s a valiant 
trencherman—I mean, he’s a very hearty eater. 

Tom. (Meditatively) I thought I was hungry a 
minute ago, before you came out of the house. 

Ruth. (As if realizing that she is talking with 
him about private matters) How I am running on! 
(Looks about yard, and changes topic.) This yard 
certainly does need fixing up. 

Tom. (Looking at litter) It is a little mite mussy. 

Ruth. (Sudden thought) I wish they would 
let you fix it up. Would you like to? 

Tom. (Wistfully) No, Miss. For a minute, I 
thought I might like the job, but I don’t really want 
it. 

Ruth. (Surprised) You wouldn’t want it? 

Tom. I couldn’t hold it down. 

Ruth. Why not? You look strong, surely you 
wish to work, to be self respecting and respected. 

Tom. (Smiling) I want to work, yes, but in my 
own way. Singing to the fiddle’s no cinch and hobo¬ 
ing isn’t exactly a holiday excursion; there’s work 


TO 


BROTHERS 


in that, though the sharps that write us up don’t 
seem to think so. Take yesterday: I footed it 
eleven miles in the rain, sawed a cord of wood for 
my dinner, helped build a shack for night shelter 
down the river, and sat up all night to nurse a sick 
pal—a fellow who takes loafing hard, Miss—you 
can’t do anything as a business and make it seem 
like a pleasure, even loaf—if you call it loafing. 

Ruth. (Serious. Nods) That’s true. I’ve 
learned that. 

Tom. No, it isn’t work I’m afraid of, but before 
I’ve been here three days, I’d hear the call, and 
then I’d have to go. 

Ruth. The call! I don’t understand. 

Tom. The call of the road. Miss. There’s noth¬ 
ing like it. 

Ruth. (Softly) Yes, I know what you mean. 
You like to wander; it’s what they call the wander¬ 
lust. 

Tom. I guess that’s it. You know that Wander¬ 
ing Jew and the Flying Dutchman they tell about? 

Ruth. (Amazed) You’ve read—you’ve heard 
of them? 

Tom. (Laughs) Oh, I was well enough educated 
to know books a little. I read them now, when I can 
get them. Tramps have their circulating libraries. 

Ruth. (Interested) Oh, do they? Where? 

Tom. In barns—especially the circulation- 

(Humps shoulders, shivers.) Newspapers, you see. 
Miss. 

Ruth. (Warmly) I’m glad you can read—er— 
can get comfort out of books, I mean. 

Tom. Lots of hoboes do, and from outdoors, too 
—scenery, I mean ; winter and summer and things 
like that. 

Ruth. You enjoy nature? You like the seasons? 
So do I—I’m glad we have so much weather in 



BROTHERS n 

New England, aren’t you ? There’s a day for every 
mood. 

Tom. There was a fellow I read. He said it was 
a lot of weather but no climate. Anyway, winter 
and summer are better than some folks I know. 
Father White and Mother Green, we call ’em. 

Ruth. (Touched) That’s beautiful—why, it’s 
poetry. 

Tom. Maybe. But about those fellows I spoke 
of, that keep going, you know, on land or sea; the 
Jew and the Dutchman- 

Ruth. Oh, yes, tell me! 

Tom. Well, they have to wander—it’s their fate— 
they’ve got a hunch about it. 

Ruth. (Puzzled) A hunch? 

Tom. What you call a warning, a kind of ad¬ 
vance tip, lady. It’s the same with us. If we stay 
in one place too long, we run up against something 
we can’t stand—something we hate- 

Ruth. What is that? 

Tom. (After pause) Ourselves—our—our con¬ 
science. 

Ruth. (Goes nearer to Tom, as if unconscious 
of it) You mean you’ve done wrong in the past— 
and the memory stings? 

Tom. Perhaps, or maybe wrong’s been done us— 
anyhow, we’re done for, we’re through—and the 
Road—always a chance and a change—it’s like a 
drug for forgetting. 

Ruth. I don’t believe you’ve done anything very 

bad, you seem to me a man- (Checks herself as 

if she had said too much.) 

Tom. ( Quietly, with deep breath) Thank you 
for that, Miss. 

Ruth. And then, there’s always the chance to do 
better, to turn over a new leaf. 





12 


BROTHERS 


Tom. (With whimsical resignation) Yes, so they 
say in the churches. I went to one one day. 

Ruth. I’m glad of that. 

Tom. (Grimly) I thought it was a theatre; it 
looked like it. So pretty soon they threw me out. 

Ruth. They ought to be ashamed! But people 
do reform. 

Tom. There’s always the Call, Miss. 

Ruth. ( Slowly, seriously) I see—it’s like a 
voice; you have to listen to it and go. 

Tom. (In lower voice) Outdoors is a big place, 
and a good one. It came before houses. 

Ruth. (Impulsively) Will you do something to 
—to please me? 

Tom. (Hesitating) I’d do anything I could- 

Ruth. (Breaking in) Then you’ll do this. 

Tom. But don’t ask me to sit still and listen to 
my conscience; it’s too late for that. I’m down for 
life, and my own fault, too, Miss. (Head dozvn, 
fingers cap.) 

Ruth. But is there no one kin to you—to help— 
and care? 

Tom. (Slowly, feeling his Way) Tramps never 
have a family, Miss— (Embarrassed) —not one you 
can see and count. (Pause.) I have a brother, but 
I haven’t seen him for years—though I know he 
isn’t dead. That’s why I like to sing that Brother 
song, you see. 

Ruth. Is he—er—on the road—has he followed 
the Call ? 

Tom. (Laughs) Bless you, no, he’s respectable, 
well-to-do, I hear. Things are fine with him; he 
wouldn’t know me—wouldn’t want to—and I 
shouldn’t blame him, either; black sheep are a dirty 
color. 

Ruth. Oh, you must promise me to find him—go 
to him and tell him everything, how it’s the Call, 



BROTHERS 


13 


you know, and not just viciousness; and ask him to 
give you a helping hand. Oh, you must promise! 

Tom. (Touched. Influenced) You’re—you’re 
good, Miss, but you don’t quite understand. There 
was a bit of money we had to divide one fine day— 
we had a quarrel, and he did a thing I thought 
wasn’t, square, and so- 

Ruth. He did you a wrong—and yet he pros¬ 
pered and you—— 

Tom. Haven’t. Yes, that’s about it. But he’s an 
honest man, all right, now; I’ve kept track of him. 
There was a shortage, you see, in the books, and I 
got wind of it and he owned up to me and swore 
he’d fix it and be on the level, if I’d keep quiet, and 
he did, too—and that’s all. 

Ruth. And they never suspected him? 

Tom. No, they suspected me, of course. I was 
a bit wild at the time. Then I had the music bee 
in my bonnet; thought T’d go to Germany and study. 
Humph! Lot of good it did me; here I am, back 
on my uppers. 

Ruth. (With fervor) But if you speak to him, 
how could he refuse after that? If he did, he 
wouldn’t be good enough to be your brother. 

Tom. (Looking at her in dazed astonishment) 
Well, I’ll be damned! 

Rutit. You’ll do it, please? 

Tom. (Hesitating) Yes, if I can find him, but it 
won’t do any good, even if be opened his arms to 
me—to take me in— (Looks contemptuously at him¬ 
self) —what can he do? What can I do? I’d wash 

up and settle down, and some fine morning- 

(Plays a bar on his fiddle) —the call will come, like 
a bird in the air, and I’m off again, with the fate on 
me to wander. 

Ruth. (Softly, draunng a step nearer) No, 
there’ll be another call maybe then, the call of the 






BROTHERS 


H 

Woman ; wife and child and home ; oh, that’s the best 
call of all for a man. 

Tom. (Huskily) Yes, that’s the best, Miss— 
but it’s not for my kind. It’s only a pipe dream 
for a hobo—he’s homeless, all right, to the finish. 
No woman would look at me. 

Ruth. (Quickly) Yes, they would. I can tell 
—because—because I’m a woman—(T om starts )— 
and feel that way towards a man. He’s coming to¬ 
night. I expect him now. (J.ooks down road, as if 
she had quite forgotten Harley before.) T believe 
I hear his car now. 

Tom. (Starts to go r.) I’d better go. 

Ruth. No, no, wait—not before you’ve prom¬ 
ised. You will promise me, you have promised. 

Tom. (Moving off) Yes, yes, I’ll do the best I 
can. I’ll try, I’ll see what he says. 

(Sound of car heard off, then it is heard stopping 
outside gate. Harley Anderson, typical well- 
dressed city man of thirty-five, comes through 
gate. Some faint resemblance between him and 
Tom. He goes eagerly to Ruth and is about 
to kiss her. Then notices Tom. Tom recog¬ 
nizes him at once.) 

Harley. Why, what’s this? Is this man bother¬ 
ing you, dear ? 

Ruth. (Quickly) Oh, no. not at all. I was 
waiting for you. Elarley, and this—this gentleman— 
(Tom gives a start.) 

Harley. (Sarcastically, looking Tom over) This 
gentleman wanted a square meal, I suppose, and no 
work attached. 

Tom. (With deep feeling) T wanted the privi¬ 
lege of talking to your—to this lady. 

Harley. Well, get out now-- 


BROTHERS 


15 

Ruth. Don’t, Harley; we had a fine talk, and it 
did me good. He sang to me, too, beautifully, a 
song about two brothers. 

Harley. (Looks more closely at Tom, then speaks 
more kindly) Oh, all right, if you say so. Here— 
(Feels in pocket for change.) 

Ruth. (In protest) Harley! 

Tom. (With dignity) Never mind, sir, my price 
would be too high. 

Harley. (Puzzled) Your price? 

Tom. I should like her to shake hands with me, 
just as if I’d made a—a kind of afternoon tea call, 
you understand — (Grim laugh) — and had a good¬ 
bye coming to me, good and proper. 

Harley. (Half amused , half scornful) Oh, go 
ahead. (To Ruth,) This is rather theatric, isn’t 
it? But go ahead. 

(Tom goes up stage to well and hastily zvashes hands 
and spruces up generally , even looking at re¬ 
flection of his face in bucket and smoothing 
hair. This should not be burlesqued to lose key 
of pathos. During this business. Ruth and 
Harley talk aside dozvn l. Then Tom comes 
down to them and timidly approaches Ruth ; 
she looks at him gravely , szveetly.) 

Ruth. I’m glad you came—that I met you. 
Thank you so much. I shall never forget it. Good¬ 
bye, Mr.—Mr.- 

Tom. (Impulsively) Anderson is my name. 
(As soon as he speaks he drazvs back and looks ap¬ 
prehensively at Harley .) 

Harley. (Quickly) Why, that’s my name. 

Tom. (With forced carelessness to hide confu¬ 
sion ) It’s not my only one. Men like me have 
many names. 



i6 


BROTHERS 


Harley. (Looking hard at Tom, as if with grow¬ 
ing suspicion of his identity) Oh, I see. The name 
is common. (To Ruth, whom he leads tozvards 
front door) You’d better go in. dear. I want to 
speak with this man alone. I—I may be able to 
help him. 

(Ruth obeys with some reluctance. At threshold 
she looks back at Tom, zolio has got centre , and 
nods, then exits. Harley walks quickly to 
Tom. The tzvo brothers confront each other for 
a moment. Then Harley speaks with con¬ 
temptuous rapidity.) 

Harley. So it’s you , is it? 

Tom. Yes, Harley, it’s me. 

Harley. (Bitterly) Hanging round to disgrace 
us. 

Tom. It’s a chance, my being here, and I’m going 
now. 

Harley. (Roughly) You stayed long enough 
to bamboozle my—Miss Linden—to make her think 
you a romantic hero—a knight of the road! 

Tom. Don’t grudge me that, Harley, you’ll have 
her always. 

Harley. And you. in the background always, I 
suppose—the tramp brother! (Laughs sarcastically.) 

Tom. (Temper rising) Look here, Harley An¬ 
derson. I’m tough and rough, I know, but just re¬ 
member there was a time when a word from me 
about you- 

Harley. (Winces) Don’t rake up bygones, for 
God’s sake! 

Tom. The bygones, perhaps, that make the dif¬ 
ference between you and me. 

Harley. (Taking different tack) You did me 
a good turn then, Tom, I know; but remember, I’ve 



BROTHERS 17 

lived a good, straightforward life for a dozen years 
—while you- 

Tom. While Tm on the road. I know it; and I 
know you’re on the level now. But you don’t seem 
to realize the temptation I’m under—if I chose to 
speak to Miss Linden, your marriage wouldn’t take 
place. 

Harley. Why should you want to stop it? 

Tom. (After a pause) Dog in the manger, I 
guess. 

Harley. Why, confound it, man! she’s nothing 
to you—and everything to me! 

Tom. (Slowly) So you say. 

Harley. (Pale, zvorried) You wouldn’t do that. 
Tom. You wouldn’t give me away? (More confi¬ 
dently) She wouldn’t believe you. 

Tom. (Slowly) Somehow, I think she would. 
She called me a man. (Aside.) 

Harley. (With agitation) But you won’t tell 
her, for my sake, Tom. My standing, my happi¬ 
ness, my character depends on it, on her. I’m able 
to be a good man just because of her, she’s the one 
thing to help me to Heaven. Ruth ! Ruth ! (Sobs.) 

Tom. (His hand held menacingly over Harley) 
No, I won't speak, but not for your sake, by God, 
for hers! Now, see that you make her a good hus¬ 
band, Harley Anderson, for as true as there’s a 
Heaven above us- 

Harley. As true as there’s a Heaven above us, 
I’ll be good to her. I’ll try to he a good man, as 
good a man—as you are, Tom. (Extends his hand, 
which Tom, after a pause , grips hard.) 

(Enter Ruth.) 

Ruth. Did you call, Harley? (To TomJ Oh, 
you haven’t gone. 




i8 


BROTHERS 


Harley. (Pulls himself together and makes 
warning sign to Tom,) Well, good-bye, Anderson, 
or whatever your name is. There’s my card. If 
you ever want a job, I may be able to do something 
for you in the city. 

(Harley leads Ruth up steps to piazza; as she 
goes , she looks back at Tom, and makes an im¬ 
pulsive gesture tozvards him. Harley, as he 
exits after her, pauses a moment , gazes at Tom, 
puts finger to lip to indicate silence, then ab¬ 
ruptly goes off. Tom stands looking after them, 
Harley’s card in his hand. It has been growing 
dusk during the last few minutes and lights 
are now lit in the house. Tom zvalks r. tozvards 
road, stops and slowly tears off bits of the card 
as he speaks in a sort of daze.) 

Tom. She loves me, she loves me not. (He comes 
to himself with a start.) She called me a man. 
((Straightens up.) She called me a gentleman. 
(Stands erect and proud.) It’s all right. I’ll keep 
my word, Harley, to you—and to her. (As he goes 
slozvly off, puts fiddle to breast and sings) 

And the one was bad and the other good, 

And it broke the bond of brotherhood. 


SLOW CURTAIN 


DOROTHY’S NEIGHBORS. 

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The story is about vocational training, a subject now widely dis¬ 
cussed; also, the distribution of large wealth. 

Back of the comedy situation and snappy dialogue there is good 
logic and a sound moral in this pretty play, which is worthy the 
attention of the experienced amateur. It is a clean, wholesome play, 
particularly suited to high school production, Price, 30 Cents. 


MISS SOMEBODY ELSE. 

A modern play in four acts by Marion Short, author of "The 
Touchdown,” etc. 6 males, 10 females. Two interior scenes. Cos¬ 
tumes modern. Plays 2J4 hours. 

This delightful .comedy has gripping dramatic moments, unusual 
character types, a striking and original plot and is essentially modern 
in theme and treatment. The story concerns the advetures of Con¬ 
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little Irish waitress with the family that are in want. She not only 
carries her scheme to success in assisting the family, but finds 
romance and much tense and lively adventure during the period of 
her incognito., aside from capturing the young man who had defrauded 
her father. The story is full of bright comedy lines and dramatic 
situations and is highly recommended for amateur production. This 
is one of the best comedies we have ever offered with a large num 
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of action from start to finish; not a dull moment in it. This is a 
great .comedy for high schools and colleges, and the wholesome story 
will please the parents and teachers. We strongly recommend it. 

Price, JO Cents, 

PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 

An exceptionally pretty comedy of Puritan New England, in three 
acts, by Amita B. Fairgrieve and Helena Miller. 9 male, 5 female 
characters. 

This is the Lend A Hand Smith College prize play. It is an ad¬ 
mirable play for amateurs, is rich in character portrayal of varied 
types and is not too difficult while thoroughly pleasing. 

Price, 30 Cents- 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 


SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

Niw and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Requiti 





BILLETED. 

A comedy in 3 acts, by F. Tennison Jesse and H. Harwood. 4 
males, 5 females. One easy interior seen-’. A charming comedy, 
constructed with uncommon skill, and abounds with clever l.nes. 
Margaret Anglin’s big success. Amateurs will find this comedy easy 
to produce and popular with all audiences. Price, 60 Cents. 


NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH. 

A comedy in 3 acts. By James Montgomery. 5 males, 6 females. 
Costumes, modern. Two interior scenes. Plays 2)4 hours. 

Is it possible to tell the absolute truth—even for twenty-four hours? 
It is—at least Bob Bennett, the hero of “Nothing But the Truth,’* 
accomplished the feat. The bet he made with his business partners, 
and the trouble he got into—with his partners, his friends, and his 
fiancee—this is the subject of William Collier’s tremendous comedy 
hit. “Nothing But the Truth” can be whole-heartedly recommended 
as one of the most sprightly, amusing and popular comedies that this 
countrv can boast, Price, 60 Cents. 


IN WALKED JIMMY. 

A comedy in 4 acts, by Minnie Z. Jaffa. 10 males, females (al¬ 
though any number of males and females may be used as clerks, 
etc.). Two interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Plays 2 l /t hours. 
The thing into which Jimmy walked was a broken-down shoe factory, 
when the clerks had all been fired, and when the proprietor was in 
serious contemplation of suicide. 

Jimmy, nothing else but plain Jimmy, would have been a mysterious 
figur< had it not been for his matter-of-fact manner, his smile and 
his everlasting humanness. He put the shoe business on its feet, won 
the heart of the girl clerk, saved her erring brother from jail, escaped 
that place as a permanent boarding house himself, and foiled the 
villain. 

Clean, wholesome comedy with just a touch of human nature, just 
a dash of excitement and more than a little bit of true philosophy 
make “In Walked Jimmy” one rf the most delightful of plays. 
Jimmy is full of the religion of life, the religion of happiness and 
the religion of helpfulness, and he so permeates the atmosphere with 
his “religion” that everyone is happy. The spirit of optimism, good 
cheer, and hearty laughter dominates the play. There is not a dull 
moment in any of the four acts. We strongly recommend it. 

Price, 60 Cents. 


MARTHA BY-THE-DAY. 

An optimistic .comedy in three acts, by Julie M. I.ippmann, author 
of the “Martha” stories. 5 males, 5 females. Three interior scenes. 
Costumes modern. Plays 2). hours. 

It is altogether a gentle thu.g, this play. It is full of quaint hu¬ 
mor, old-fashioned, homely sentiment, the kind that people who see 
the play will recall and chuckle over to-morrow and the next day. 

Miss Lippmann has herself adapted her very successful book for 
stage service, and in doing this has selected from her novel the most 
telling incidents, infectious comedy and homely sentiment for the 
play, and the result is thoroughly delightful. Price, 60 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 


SAMUEL FRENCH, 2S-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 




The Touch-Down 

A comedy in four acts, by Marion Short. 8 males, 6 females, but 
any number of characters can be introduced in the ensembles. Cos¬ 
tumes modern. One interior scene throughout the play. Time, 2 l /% 
hours. 

This play, written for the use of clever amateurs, is the story of 
life in Siddell, a Pennsylvania co-educational college. It deals with 
the vicissitudes and final triumph of the Siddell Football Eleven, and 
the humorous and dramatic incidents connected therewith. 

“The Touch-Down” has the true varsity atmosphere, college songs 
are sung, and the piece is lively and entertaining throughout. High 
schools will make no mistake in producing this play. We strongly 
recommend it as a high-class and well-written comedy. 

Price, 30 Cents. 

Hurry, Hurry, Hurry 

A comedy in three acts, by LeRoy Arnold. 5 males, 4 females. 
One interior scene. Costumes modern. Plays 2J4 hours. 

The story is based on the will of an eccentric aunt. It stipulates 
that her pretty niece must be affianced before she is twenty-one. and 
marr.ed to her fiance within a year, if she is to get her spinster 
relative’s million. Father has nice notions of honor and fails to tell 
daughter about the will, so that she may make her choice untram¬ 
meled by any other consideration than that of true love. The action 
all takes place in the evening the midnight of which will see her 
reach twenty-one. Time is therefore short, and it is hurry, hurry, 
hurry, if she is to become engaged and thus save her father from 
impending bankruptcy. 

The situations are intrinsically funny and the dialogue is sprightly. 
The characters are natural and unaffected and the action moves with 
a snap such as should be expected from its title. Price, 30 Cents. 

The Varsity Coach 

A three-act play of college life, by Marion Short, specially adapted 
to performance by amateurs or high school students. 5 males 6 
females, but any number of boys and girls may be introduced in the 
action of the play. Two settings necessary, a college boy’s room and 
the university campus. Time, about 2 hours. 

Like many another college boy, “Bob” Selby, an all-round popular 
college man, becomes possessed of the idea that athletic prowess is 
more to be desired than scholarship. He is surprised in the midst of 
a “spread” in his room in Regatta week by a visit from his aunt 
who is putting him through college. Aunt Serena, “a lady of the old 
school and the dearest little woman in the whole world,” has hastened 
to make this visit to her adored nephew under the mistaken impression 
that he is about to receive the Fellowes prize for scholarship. Her 
grief and chagrin when she learns that instead of the prize Robert 
has received “a pink card,” which is equivalent to suspension for poor 
scholarship, gives a touch of pathos to an otherwise jolly comedy of 
college life. How the repentant Robert more than redeems himself, 
carries off honors at the last, and in the end wins Ruth, the faithful 
little sweetheart of the “Prom” and the classroom, makes a story of 
dramatic interest and brings out very clearly certain phases of modern 
college life. There are several opportunities for the introduction of 
college songs and “stunts.” Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 


SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free os Request 



0 015 973 21 

The Return of Hi Jinks 


A comedy in four acts, by Marion Short, author of “The Varsity 
Coach,” “The Touch-Down,” etc. 6 males, 8 females. Costumes 
modern. One interior scene. 


This comedy is founded upon and elaborated from a farce comedy 
in two acts written by J. H. Horta, and originally produced at Tuft’s 
College. 

Hiram Poynter Jinks, a Junior in Hoosic College (Willie Collier 
type), and a young moving picture actress (Mary Pickford type), are 
the leading characters in this lively, modern farce. 

Thomas Hodge, a Senior, envious of the popularity of Jinks, wishes 
to think up a scheme to throw ridicule upon him during a visit of 
the Hoosic Glee Club to Jinks’s home town. Jinks has obligingly acted 
as a one-day substitute in a moving picture play, in which there is a 
fire scene, and this gives Hodge his cue. He sends what seems to 
be a bona fide account of Jink’s heroism at a Hoosic fire to Jink’s 
home paper. Instead of repudiating his laurels as expected, Jinks 
decides to take a flyer in fame, confirms the fake story, confesses to 
being a hero and is adored by all the girls, to the chagrin and dis¬ 
comfiture of Hodge. Of course, the truth comes out at last, but 
Jinks is not hurt thereby, and his romance with Mimi Mayflower 
comes to a successful termination. 

This is a great comedy for amateurs. It is full of funny situations 
and is sure to please. Price, 30 Cents. 


June 

A most successful comedy-drama in four acts, by Marie Doran, 
author of “The New Co-Ed,” “Tempest and Sunshine,” “Dorothy’s 
Neighbors,” etc. 4 males, 8 females. One interior scene. Costumes 
modern. Plays 2% hours. 

This play has a very interesting group of young people. June is 
an appealing little figure, an orphan living with her aunt. There are 
a number of delightful, life-like characters: the sorely tried likeable 
Mrs. Hopkins, the amusing, haughty Miss Banks of the glove depart¬ 
ment, the lively Tilly and Milly, who work in the store, and ambitious 
Snoozer; Mrs. Hopkins’s only son, who aspires to be President of the 
United States, but finds his real sphere is running the local trolley 
car. The play is simplicity itself in the telling of an every-day story, 
and the scenic requirements call for only one set, a room in the 
boarding house of Mrs. Hopkins, while an opportunity is afforded to 
introduce any number of extra characters. Musical numbers may be 
introduced, if desired. Price, 30 Cents. 


Tempest and Sunshine 

A comedy drama in four acts, by Marie Doran. 5 males and 3 
females. One exterior and three interior scenes. Plays about 2 hours 

Every school girl has revelled in the sweet simplicity and gentle¬ 
ness of the characters interwoven in the charms that Mary J Holmes 
commands in her story of “Tempest and Sunshine.” We can strongly 
recommend this play as one of the best plays for high school pro¬ 
duction published in recent years. Pr.ce, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject tc Royalty When Produced) 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 V\ est 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 





